Page 6 of Buck ’Em Cowgirl

It wasn’t about the glory, though. I loved this lifestyle. The adrenaline of climbing into the bucking chute, the camaraderie of the locker room, and the brotherhood I’d found with the guys on the circuit—it was something you couldn’t replicate anywhere else. Yeah, I’d be lying if I said the attention from the buckle bunnies didn’t add a little extra fun. Dalton and I definitely had that in common.

I wasn’t ready to settle down. Not with my dad still cheering me on, not with milestones like this one ahead of me, and not with a career that still lit a fire inside me every time I climbed onto a bull in the chute.

We walked into the hotel, grabbed our bags, and headed back downstairs to meet the rideshare. We weren’t going to the airport tonight but to a different hotel across town, closer to the terminal so we wouldn’t have to fight morning traffic half-asleep.

Neither of us said much as we slid into the car. Dalton shifted in his seat, stretching out his leg while keeping an ice pack pressed against his thigh where the bull had stomped him. He winced occasionally, but stayed quiet, staring out the window at the passing streetlights.

The car smelled faintly of air freshener and leather, and the hum of the tires on the road filled the silence. It wasn’t uncomfortable—it never was with Dalton—but tonight, the quiet felt different. Heavy.

“Yo, Beau.” Dalton interrupted my thoughts as we pulled up to the new hotel.

“What’s up?”

“You ever wonder what life would be like without all this?”

“Without what?” I asked, even though I already knew.

He hesitated, still looking out the window. “The injuries. The traveling. The bulls.”

I blew out a breath, grabbing my bag as the car came to a stop. The driver mumbled a polite “Have a good night” as I tipped him, but I barely heard it. Dalton was already on the sidewalk, his bag slung over one shoulder, waiting for me like always.

“All the damn time.”

3

Fable

“Come on, cowgirl,” Harleigh said, smacking her lips together after she finished applying her red lipstick.

She looked effortlessly perfect in a brown fringe miniskirt, a cropped white top, and knee-high brown boots. It all looked natural on her, like she belonged in a magazine spread for rodeo chic.

Then there was me. A walking disco ball in a white sparkle fringe jacket, silver glitter boots, bright pink pants, and a cropped top that said Cowboy Pillows across my chest.

My honey-blonde hair was curled loosely down past my shoulders, my plush lips were painted a soft pink, and my clothes showed off all my gentle curves.

I looked like I was either auditioning for a country-themed reality show or heading to Nashville for a bachelorette party.

“Are you sure I’ll fit in?” I hesitated as I glanced at myself in the mirror.

Harleigh didn’t even pause, still fussing with her lipstick like she hadn’t heard me—or didn’t think I needed an answer.

Don’t get me wrong, I loved the outfit. Every sequin, every sparkle. It reminded me of who I used to be before the accident—bold, carefree, unapologetic. That girl wouldn’t have thought twice about walking into the event looking like a neon dream.

But that wasn’t me anymore.

I was the girl who wore muted colors and tried to blend in. The one who lived in a boring apartment with beige walls and furniture that didn’t stand out. Wearing this felt like trying on a version of myself I’d left behind, a version I wasn’t sure I could ever be again.

“Are you asking me if you think you’ll fit in, or if Mike will be upset with you?”

I shrugged, but deep down, I knew the answer. It was the latter. Of course, it was the latter.

“What are we working on tonight?” Harleigh asked, turning to face me with her usual warmth.

I took a deep breath, letting it fill my lungs before slowly releasing it. “We’re working on being present in the moment.”

Her smile lit up the room, and before I knew it, she pulled me into a tight hug. “That’s right, girlfriend.” Pulling back, she pointed toward the sink. “Go ahead and wash up before we head out.”

She gave my shoulder a reassuring squeeze, and I nodded, grateful that she understood without needing me to explain. No rushing, no judgment. Just patience.